Clearance Sacrifice
by CharmingNotDarling
Summary: How can you expect him to respect your heart when you have never done so yourself? -An episode tag for The Crimson Hat-


Clearance Sacrifice

**A/N: Ok so this is something I wrote months ago and never posted and then forgot it existed. It's a tag for The Crimson Hat (after Rigsby leaves for nachos and before he returns with the rest of the team) and it's definitely passed its prime as far as posting goes but I couldn't help but think of it after the last few episodes. I would like to think there would need to be a conversation of sorts like this in order for their relationship to continue the way it has. Lisbon is (at least in my mind) just too strong to allow him to continue his charades and not need to be validated at some point. I guess you could say it's AU now with the Kirkland flirting going on… Anyway, regardless it's just a little gap in time I felt the need to fill. **

**As always I hope you enjoy…**

**Disclaimer: As I should have stated previously; I own absolutely nothing to do with any of them**

"So you want the good news or the bad news first?"

What you really want is for Rigsby to come back because being left alone with him right now is obviously not the best idea.

Because all you can wonder after is whether there will ever be a day to grace your life where the single most important person in it holds you in an equal accord. You know the negative answer to this question, have come to terms with it and up until a few days ago you were willing to accept it for exactly what it was. However, your acceptance cannot keep your heart from crumbling to pieces every time he stumbles unceremoniously from the pedestal you continue to place him on.

You remain silent and allow your eyes to convey what little interest you have left. Only moments ago you had found the courage to venture towards an explanation in regards to his earlier confession.

A confession you would claim to never see coming… And yet have always longed to hear.

He rattles off the stipulations involved in order to participate in the coming meeting. You catch what you hope are all the most important parts. He's gone back to mumbling to himself, you catch a few syllables and wonder if you've heard right when you swear you hear mention of a soccer ball.

He goes quiet then, and the sudden silence pulls you back.

He's staring at you, taking in every angle of you face. The hardened scrutiny makings you long to touch your hair, straighten your clothes or perhaps duck beneath the table.

"I don't have an answer for you."The tone he takes is apologetic but you're not sure whether he's sorry for his answer or that he's opted to produce one. His gaze lowers as he begins to speak and he ends up staring at the table between you, hands in his pockets. His voice takes on a note of sincerity, its void of his usual manipulative tone but you know better than to take anything he offers at face value. "And if I did I'm almost certain it would be what you wanted to hear but it wouldn't be the answer you're looking for."

Right, because that just settles everything and sets the proportions back in place…

And as always his earlier deflection has sent your courage cowering in the furthest corner of the room.

"Let's forget I asked. We'll call it a moment of overly aggressive curiosity and forget it ever happened." You gauge his reaction, looking for anything. "Something tells me you were more than willing to leave it that way from the beginning anyway."

The stony set of your voice pulls at his gaze, it's rare for you to be dismissive with him and it seems he's a little taken aback.

Everything about him softens. The set of his face and that of his shoulders, his lips part slightly as he cocks his head to the side.

Had this moment taken place a few months ago you'd be nothing but a puddle of misery at his feet for even thinking of causing him another moment of regret, but your resistance is fueled by his lack of propriety in regards to yourself.

How can you expect him to respect your heart when you have never done so yourself?

"Lisbon, please," His hand reaches for you then, over the open briefcase between you and without so much as a second thought you take a step back.

You know you're strong enough to resist his words, the man rattles off lies with the ease equal to your recital of the Miranda Rights. And if you refuse to meet his eyes you know you can hold off falling for his wounded expression. But you know without the shadow of a doubt if he touches you now, you'll regret whatever comes next.

Because his ability to manipulate your scenes has always been one of your greatest regrets. When he's near your strength is always teetering, and tonight you've come closer to standing your ground than ever before.

You'd think his leaving would've toughened your skin, enhance your disrespect for his deceitful talents, but no. It's just heightened your awareness of every move he makes. Every shift of his body, every lift in his voice is an awakened memory laced in longing and emotion.

You're surprised to find you deflection wounds him, the look comes and goes so quickly you know you're lucky you've seen it at all.

"There's a reason it's your head he's after, Teresa." Ah, well at least that sheds some light on the soccer ball comment.

The anger rises in you so instantly you're unaware it's there until you find yourself pressed up against the table, the fingers of your right hand stabbing the air between you.

"Yes there is and it has nothing to do with what I mean to you and everything to do with what I can do for you." You step back again and lower your voice, annoyed your mask of calm was able to slip away. "You hand over my head and he disappears. And trust me when I tell you, there's no one left out there who will work this case and deal with you simultaneously."

He skirts the table slowly, and despite your hopes, he does not return to lounge in his chair. He comes to stand before you and you find yourself once again desperately wishing for Rigsby to return. His stoic movements send your nerves scattering, they take control of your tongue in an attempt to keep him quiet.

"You play this cat and mouse game of his and you end up exactly where he wants you. And now he's bored or lazy or perhaps just like me he's tired of playing. So he asks for the one thing you have left of any worth to part with. You put my head in that box and you're signing away your open access to his files. Don't think for one moment I'm not the reason you still have a job and a way into all of this."

"And you think that's all you are? A proverbial means to an end?" He's annoyed, bordering on angry. It's not something you see directed at you often and much to your dismay you meet his eyes and the fight drains from your body almost instantly.

You're treacherous heart is a glutton for punishment.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. There's a headache brewing at the base of your skull but instead of discomfort you're feeling somewhat grateful he wasn't desperate enough to follow through with Red John's request.

You're voice is small when you speak again and make sure you do not meet his eye.

"I've been tossed aside and stepped over. I've been left in the dark and lied too countless times. You do what you have to do to get to where Red John leads you. I've come to terms with it, I can even somewhat accept it so please don't stand here and attempt to glorify your need for information with declarations of love. I'd rather place my own head in that box than sit here and listen to you feed me what you think I need to hear all so you can take your next advance."

His hands snake out and grab hold of your face. There's nothing gentle or soft in his movements and you can feel the tremors of anger that grip him as he forces your eyes level with his.

Your hands settle along his upper arms and pull, he's holding you too tightly and there's no room for comfort in his makeshift embrace.

"Jane please, you're hurting me." You're grateful your voice is strong and your eyes don't fill, even if you know your tears are too busy drowning your heart.

You hear Rigsby's approach and regret wishing so fully for his return. His hands abandon their hold and his eyes instantly fill with regret, whether it's real or not you'll ever know but it's nice to see it none the less.

"I don't deserve you. There isn't a soul out there who would argue with me and we both know I'm selfish enough to want what I don't deserve. I want you to remember this conversation." As if you'd ever be able to forget. "because if I'm lucky enough to find myself alone with you after Red John is dead there will be one very similar."

He turns from you then, returning to his chair with the book he abandoned for his phone.

Later, you'll want to shoot yourself for asking but in the moment you feel the need to know take over.

"And if we're not lucky enough?" He opens his book and refuses to meet your gaze as Rigsby descends the stairs.

"Then I would hope you'd remember you're the only person I trust with the truth."

**A/N: The title is a war (or chess) reference. It's a strategic move where innocence is set aside to make way for stronger and greater advances… seemed fitting to me. **


End file.
